Shadows unveiled
by Eleriel
Summary: The inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place are celebrating the first New Year's Eve after Voldemort's defeat, but upstairs someone sits in sleepless thought. If another comes along, will she be enough to break him from darkness? Oneshot, R&R please.


**A/N: This was written for the Mugglenet Fanfiction Winter Snows Challenge #1: Redemption. The parameters were: **

_It's New Year's Eve, late at night, and most of the world is out and about, except for two people. One is lost emotionally, perhaps beyond all mortal repair, and another one is up, unable to sleep, just sitting. What happens when the two meet?_

For the first challenge, pick any two canon characters. One must be the person who is in need of redemption; the other must be the person who can, in some form or other, give that to them.

1- The story is about two characters, and two characters alone. All dialogue must be between the two.

2- The character in need of redemption needs to have actually done something

**So anyway, this is my take on it. POV is Snape's. Tell me what you think!**

**Shadows unveiled**

A freezing wind swirled through the open window, fluttering the tattered black curtains. A few snowflakes, carried on the icy wind, drifted through the window to land, unmelting, on the faded carpet of the Black library. The library seemed empty and unwelcoming, a place no one should have gone to in the light of the faint sounds of cheery voices drifting in with the snow, or the louder sound of merrymaking coming from downstairs. It was a cold place, as frozen and forbidding as the world outside that had made it part of its domain. But there was, surprisingly, one person who was there. One person who did not mind the cold, something so bearable after the terrors and travails of his cold life. A someone now sitting curled up in an old armchair, heedless of the cold, staring unblinkingly at a grate as dead as he seemed. That person was Severus Snape.

Severus Snape sighed, moving one hand up to his face to flick a piece of greasy black hair out of his eyes. He studied the hand for a moment, considering what that hand had been capable of, then let it fall limply to rest in his lap. He stared at the cold ashes of some long-forgotten fire wishing, as he had every night for the past year and a half, that the night would soon pass so that he could go on with his semblance of a life. He knew, when he ever stopped to think of it, that this wasn't normal; dimly it seemed that he remembered a time of sleep, deep sleep undisturbed by the nightmares that ruled his nights. Nights not spent in sleepless thought, fearful of the terrors that now came with sleep.

Funny, to think that while this night was like every other night, in its own way it was different. Tonight was New Year's Eve, the turning of a year to another as it did every 356 or so days. People always thought of this time as a time of new beginnings and changes. Although he wished with his head that this year could be different, in his heart he knew that it could be no different. Because, he thought bitterly as he twisted his cold arms around his equally cold knees and hugged them to himself, this was his punishment.

His reverie was abruptly broken by the sound of someone knocking on the door and calling out in a timid voice:

"Professor, I know you're in there. May I come in?"

Granger. He should have known. Only that bushy-haired former student of his, now apprenticed to a healer at St. Mungo's, would have taken upon herself to bother trying to give him some holiday cheer. According to Potter she seemed to have a thing for helpless cases, and if Dobby was anything to judge by, he should have known this was coming. Hopefully though she would say whatever she had to say quickly and leave him to his self-pity.

"Come in," he barked irritably. Hermione Granger opened the door and entered timidly, carrying a steaming cup.

"Harry told me you were having trouble sleeping, so I brought some warm milk for you. I thought it might help you sleep."

Of course Potter had told her that. Figures that James Potter's son couldn't keep his mouth closed for more than a few seconds.

When she received no reply, Granger placed the cup on the table by his elbow, moving over to the open window to shut it with a shiver. Drawing her wand out of her pocket, she lit the candles around the room and conjured a blazing fire in the hearth. Within moments, the room was much warmer and the snow on the carpet had completely melted.

"It's not good for you to sit here in the cold dark like this. You could have at least closed the window," Granger said in an annoyed tone. She walked over to sit in the armchair opposite his, and sat down with a disapproving expression.

"You know, if I had wanted someone to mother me I could have gone down to the kitchen and bothered Molly Weasley instead," Severus answered slightly annoyed. "Sometimes I like to sit in the dark and think." He realized that he was still curled up in his chair; hiding his embarrassment that she should see him in such a childlike position, he uncurled himself from his chair and sat up, tapping his fingers irritably on his knee. "You should go back downstairs with your friends."

Granger however ignored him and looked at the fire instead. "Why do you shut yourself away from everyone like this?" she said, changing the subject as she picked absentmindedly at the edge of the jumper she was wearing. "Does it have something to do with Dumbledore's death?"

Severus stopped tapping his fingers and glanced over at her, slightly perturbed by her question. Of course he knew that anyone with half a brain knew that Dumbledore's death bothered him, but after all he'd been through with the war and all he'd sacrificed, most people skipped over that topic because they knew that it bothered him, although most thought that he had gotten over it. "I've always been a private person," he finally answered, rather lamely.

Granger turned to face him and observed him with a careful eye. "You have," she agreed, "but this goes beyond merely being private. When you shut yourself up night after night in here, refusing to talk to anyone, it tells me that something's wrong. When you look as though you've aged twenty years in the past year or so, even though it may be partially due to everything you went through during the war, it means that something is bothering you, and if no one else will take the initiative to try to help you, I will."

Severus snorted in disbelief, and resumed his study of the fire. "What's to say I want help, or that I'd want help from you? Actually, even if there is something wrong with me, why do you believe that _you_, of all people, would be capable of fixing it?"

She didn't answer. Instead she looked down at her lap, seemingly in intense concentration. _Hah, perhaps now the know-it-all didn't have an answer after all_, Severus thought as he glanced over at her. Perhaps she would have to leave him as an unsolved problem. However, after another moment of thought she looked up at him again and said, in a quiet voice:

"If you didn't need help, then why did you tell Harry? Why are you talking to me now?"

Severus sat thinking for a moment, slightly annoyed. What _had_ he talked to Potter about that was so important? He remembered vaguely talking to Potter a few nights before about it, but he hadn't thought it was that big of a deal. He remembered that he'd been sitting in his normal spot in the library after dinner and Potter had come in to chat with him, and he had commented that it seemed as though Severus never slept. He'd talked to Potter about his reason for never being able to sleep, and somehow Potter understood why he felt so badly about Dumbledore's death.

He didn't think though, that Potter would have decided to bring in reinforcements. He glared at the girl sitting beside him, who had begun picking at the edge of her jumper again. "How is that your business, anyway. If I decide to have a conversation with Potter, then I'm allowed to have a conversation with Potter," he snapped irritably. "Go away and don't bother me."

Granger however, was not put off by this statement. "It isn't your fault you know."

"What isn't my fault?" He had a good idea of where this was heading, but he thought that if he pretended he didn't she would give up and leave him in peace, or rather, in misery.

Instead of replying, she stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the street below, face lit dimly by the cold light of the streetlamp outside. "You know you can tell me if you want to. I daresay you neither need nor want help, but if you need someone to talk to you could talk to me." Here she looked up at him, an unreadable expression on her face. "I can't say that I know what it's like to be in your position, and to tell the truth, I'm not sure anyone else does either. Harry's worried about you though, as are McGonagall and Lupin, because you just seem to be wasting away and no one knows how to talk to you. I didn't think I could do anything either, but I thought I'd try anyway." She walked over to the door, placing a hand on the knob. "I can see though, that I was wrong. You don't want help, and no one will be able to."

Severus watched as she turned the knob and began to walk out, his brain still processing what she had just told him. Goodness, _Lupin_ was worried? Finally he came to a decision and called after her:

"Wait!" She turned to look back at him expectantly. "I don't know if I'll be able to talk about this, but if you honestly want to help me…" Here he faltered slightly. "I…might be willing to accept your help." Not truly a concession that he needed help, but it seemed to be enough for her. She walked back over to her chair and sat down, looking expectantly at him. He was a bit put off by this, but resolved to start anyway. He'd started it, and he wasn't about to sacrifice his pride and back down now, no matter how hard this was for him.

However, Granger seemed to sense his hesitation and asked instead:

"What exactly happened that night? After Luna and I helped Professor Flitwick, we went up to help the others, but by that time it was over and Harry told us some of what had happened, but I never got the full story."

Severus pursed his lips for a moment, thinking of how best to phrase what would end up being one of the most difficult conversations of his life. After a moment, he looked down at his feet instead of at the fire and began hesitantly.

"I was in my office, grading some first year essays when Professor Flitwick rushed in and told me that Death Eaters were attacking the castle." He drew a deep breath and went on. "I had heard rumors for months that something like that would happen, but you must understand that the Dark Lord never let anyone know his plans unless they were directly involved in them. Through Narcissa Malfoy, however, I had learnt that he was plotting to kill…Professor Dumbledore, and I knew that this was it."

Severus rose from his chair, and began pacing back and forth by the window, continuing as he did. "So I Stunned Professor Flitwick to keep him out of trouble, and when I saw you two lurking outside my office, I told you that he had collapsed. I…thought that if you two were distracted for a moment, you wouldn't get hurt by the Death Eaters. I ran upstairs to where the battle was taking place, and realized that someone had placed a barrier over the main staircase, and I realized that the main fight wasn't here, but upstairs. I remembered that Draco Malfoy had once mentioned the Astronomy Tower, and realized that they must have lured Professor Dumbledore up there." He stopped pacing, staring intently out the window as the scenes flashed through his memory as if he was once more experiencing it. Granger watched him intently.

"I went up there, and saw Draco along with four other Death Eaters, but they don't matter now. Draco was deathly pale and trembling like a leaf, and it was then that I realized that I would have to kill him." A single tear slid down his pale cheek, completely unnoticed.

"I swore an Unbreakable Vow that I would help Draco complete his mission, no matter what. I knew at the time that it had something to do with the plot to invade Hogwarts, but I didn't realize the extent of it. Later I realized that it meant that I would have to kill Professor Dumbledore, but I told him that I would die myself before killing him. He told me that if all went well, neither of us would have to die, but he told me that if it came to it, I was to kill him and save both myself and the boy. He knew that if Malfoy failed on his mission, the Dark Lord would kill him. He was willing to sacrifice himself for both of us, and I hated him." His voice broke at this statement, and he fought for a moment to regain control of himself, not noticing the sympathetic expression on Granger's face, too lost in his memories.

"I hate him. I hate that he was making me kill him. I hated that he wouldn't let me die and sacrifice myself for him. I hated that the great Dumbledore, who had saved me in the past, was no more than a weak old man who was still strong enough to sacrifice himself. Because most of all, I hated that I was too weak to defend him. I was too weak to sacrifice myself. I was just as much a coward as Potter and Black had always told me I was. In the end, I chose the easy way out and killed him, so that I could escape myself." He turned toward Granger, sitting on her chair with a sorrowful expression.

"Do you know what that's like? Do you know what it's like to realize that in the end, you would rather kill the one person who had ever cared anything about your miserable life because it saved your worthless skin?" He knew she didn't. She had always chosen the right path. She had always been able to choose the right over the easy, because that was what she was. There was a reason Hermione Granger had been sorted into Gryffindor, but Severus Snape had been sorted into Slytherin.

But to his surprise, she nodded.

"During all the times that Harry and Ron and I went on adventures, I was always the one who wanted to not go because I was afraid of getting into trouble. Of course they always got me to tag along anyway by telling me I wasn't being a Gryffindor," she smiled as she remembered, "but I was never the brave one. That was Harry. I would have rather sit in Gryffindor Tower than help them on one of their many escapades, but if I had, Harry might not be here today." She looked at him and smiled apologetically. "I know that I could never understand what you've gone through, but I do understand a bit because I am a bit like that too."

He snorted at her naïveté. "Being hesitant at facing the Dark Lord is much different from being a coward and killing the one person who cared about you." That statement however was not enough to put her off.

"But even if you did, why does it bother you so much?" She said. "You said yourself, it wasn't your fault. You didn't really have a choice about taking the Unbreakable Vow, and you knew that if you didn't kill Dumbledore, the others would. In a way, you ensure that he had a swift and painless death."

Severus stood for a moment as though immobilized, stunned by this idea. He had given Dumbledore a painless death? He'd never thought of it that way. He'd always thought about how it was his fault, but he'd never seen it as a _good _thing. As though in a trance, he moved over to his seat and sat down heavily, covering his face in his hands.

Dumbledore's death couldn't have been inevitable, he was _Dumbledore _for heaven's sake! But he realized that, even if he hadn't killed Dumbledore, even though Malfoy had been incapable of killing him, the others would have anyway. After all, it was a sure-fire way to gain the Dark Lord's favor, and heavens knows that most of them would have been more than glad to have a chance to get that. And the other Death Eaters probably wouldn't have used _Avada Kedavra_ either. Especially not Fenrir. He suppressed a shudder at the thought.

Perhaps it wasn't his fault after all. Perhaps Dumbledore was right, that it was better for him and Malfoy to live than for Severus to sacrifice himself for someone who would have died anyway. But strangely enough, that did not lessen Dumbledore's sacrifice in his eyes. Although he had died inevitably, he had died so that he, Severus Snape, could live. He died because he knew that in his heart of hearts, Severus had never wanted to die. He had offered to because it seemed unthinkable that someone so great as Dumbledore should die for someone as worthless as him, but that was why he was great. He was great because no sacrifice was too small. He would give everything for those who needed it, even if they were unworthy. He had died because his life was at an end, while Severus still had his whole life in front of him.

He sighed and looked up at Granger. She was watching him as though she had known this all along and was merely waiting for him to put two and two together. In the end, it wasn't she who was naïve, it was himself. He had been destroying himself because he was too stupid to realize that Dumbledore had sacrificed himself so that he could live.

She quirked a smile at him and rose, heading for the door. "Do you want to go down now with the rest of us?" She asked quietly.

He rose as well and headed to the door after her. "No, I think I'm going to go to bed. You may wish the rest of them a good New Year for me." He flicked his wand behind him to extinguish the candles and fire.

As they turned to part in the corridor, Granger turned and smiled at him. "A good New Year to you, Professor Snape," she said before hurrying downstairs to be with her friends.

He himself went upstairs to his bedroom, to sleep the first good night's sleep in one and a half years.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled twelve times, signaling the turning of the year.


End file.
